A Pinch Of Silver
by J. B. Tilton
Summary: After getting lost in a storm, Prue encounters a legendary creature and leans some surprising things about its origins.


CHARMED  
  
"A Pinch Of Silver"  
  
by J. B. Tilton  
  
email: aramath@isot.com  
  
Rating: G  
  
Disclaimer: "Charmed" and all related characters and events are the   
  
property of the WB television network, except for those characters specifically   
  
created for this story. This is a work of fan fiction and no infringement of   
  
copyright is intended.  
  
* * *  
  
(Authors note: This story takes place between season 1 episodes "Which   
  
Prue Is It Anyway?" and "That 70s Episode".)  
  
* * *  
  
After getting lost in a storm, Prue encounters a legendary creature and   
  
leans some surprising things about its origins.  
  
* * *  
  
ONE  
  
Prue reached up and wiped the condensation from the windshield of her car.   
  
The storm wasn't letting up. In the last three hours she imagined she hadn't   
  
traveled more than five miles or so. Mr. Buckland must have been crazy sending   
  
her to pick up the shipment. And she must have been just as crazy to agree to   
  
it.  
  
Now she was God knows how far from San Francisco driving through the worst   
  
rainstorm to hit the west coast in more than thirty years. There were some very   
  
valuable antiques in the trunk of her car and instead of being home safe and   
  
sound she was trying to find some route back to the highway.  
  
She wasn't even sure how she had managed to get off on this side road.   
  
Even after turning around and retracing her route she still hadn't been able to   
  
find the turnoff back to the highway. She couldn't imagine she was very far   
  
from the highway. But in the raging downpour she was lucky to see to the end of   
  
her headlight beams.  
  
"Nearly ten o'clock," she muttered, looking at her watch. "I should have   
  
been home by seven. Piper and Phoebe are going to be worried sick."  
  
She picked up her cell phone and looked at it again. She turned it on but   
  
the light was still flashing, indicating that the battery was nearly dead. She   
  
should have been sure it had been charged before she had left on this errand.   
  
And her car charger had mysteriously vanished.  
  
She looked around the countryside again. Not that she could see anything.   
  
Other than the pitch-black darkness all that she could see was the driving rain.   
  
She pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road and looked around. There   
  
must be some house or farm somewhere. Even in the countryside of California,   
  
there were myriad houses everywhere.  
  
She strained to look through the windshield. She couldn't be sure. Was   
  
that a light she saw in the distance? It appeared to flicker wildly through the   
  
storm. She put the car in gear and slowly drove toward the light in the   
  
distance.  
  
She nearly missed the turnoff that she imagined led to the light. It   
  
appeared to be an unpaved road of some kind. As she navigated her way up the   
  
road, the light became clearer. It also became more than one. She could just   
  
barely make out the silhouette of a house against the dark sky behind it.  
  
House was probably too mild a word. The house appeared to be huge. Much   
  
larger than the manor she and her sisters shared. The road led up to a circular   
  
drive in front of the house. She pulled up in front of the house and turned the   
  
engine off. Sitting outside the building she saw that it was even larger than   
  
she had first realized.  
  
It was three stories tall in most places. There were three tower-like   
  
additions on the house that were two stories higher than the rest of the house.   
  
The architecture was very old, as she imagined the house was. It was easily two   
  
hundred years old.  
  
Prue got out of the car and ran up on the porch. Even the short distance   
  
she had to travel left her drenched. She wiped the rain from her face and   
  
looked at the door. It was an ancient device that was intricately carved,   
  
probably by hand. There was no doorbell. Only a pull cord to one side.   
  
Tentatively, she reached up and pulled on the cord. She heard movement inside   
  
the house.  
  
TWO  
  
The door opened to reveal an elderly man. He towered over Prue like a   
  
giant. The man was wearing an antiquated suite and tie. The type she had seen   
  
in pictures of the turn of the century. He had stark white hair and looked to   
  
Prue to be over one hundred years old, although she knew that was only her   
  
imagination.  
  
"I'm sorry to disturb you," Prue said, "I seem to be lost. I wonder if I   
  
could use your phone for just a minute."  
  
"I'm sorry," said the man with an accent Prue couldn't quite place, "we do   
  
not entertain guests."  
  
The man started to shut the door, but Prue pushed her way inside.  
  
"Listen," she said, "I don't mean to intrude. But it's pouring down rain,   
  
I'm lost in the middle of nowhere, I'm soaked to the skin, and I'm in no mood   
  
for games. I just want to use your phone so I can call my family and let them   
  
know I'm okay."  
  
Prue then noticed the inside of the house. It was filled with what she   
  
recognized as very valuable antiques. Antiques that were in excellent   
  
condition. Antiques that at an auction would be worth a great deal of money.  
  
But the think that caught her eye were the numerous candles around the   
  
room. They were all lit providing the light in the room. There wasn't an   
  
electric light to be seen. It was as if she had stepped back in time one   
  
hundred years.  
  
"Conway," said a man coming down the stairs at the back of the room,   
  
"who's at the door."  
  
The man was perhaps forty years old. He spoke with a distinct British   
  
accent. And he was dressed in a modern day business suit. Not an expensive   
  
one, but a dark green that was in stark contrast to the antiquated surroundings   
  
in the room.  
  
"A young voman, sir," said the man who had answered the door. "She hos   
  
asked to use the telephone."  
  
"Well, invite her in," said the man. "We can't leave her outside in this   
  
weather. It's dreadful out there."  
  
"Sir," said Conway, "your father vos qvite specific about guests."  
  
"Never mind that," said the man in the suit. "It would be inhospitable to   
  
turn anyone away on a night like this."  
  
Conway simply bowed and stepped to one side. Prue moved into the house,   
  
glancing around.  
  
"I'm sorry," she said to the man in the suit, "I didn't mean to intrude.   
  
My name is Prue Halliwell. I was on my way to San Francisco when I got lost in   
  
the rain. My family is going to be frantic that I'm not home yet. I just   
  
wanted to use your phone to let them know I'm okay."  
  
"Of course," said the man. "Please forgive Conway. He is a bit   
  
overprotective of the family. He's been with us a very long time."  
  
"I guess I can understand that," said Prue. "I'm kind of the same way   
  
with my sisters. I've been kind of a mother to them most of their lives."  
  
"My name is Gregory Townsend," said the man. "I'm afraid we don't have a   
  
telephone. Father is very old fashioned. He doesn't believe in many of the   
  
modern conveniences."  
  
"Oh," Prue replied. "Well, that certainly makes things awkward. I'm not   
  
really sure where I am. I'm afraid I got turned around in this storm and was   
  
trying to make my way back to the highway."  
  
"Quite understandable," said Gregory. "Actually, you're only about six   
  
miles from the highway. But you certainly can't go out again in this weather.   
  
I would feel absolutely dreadful if you should suffer an accident because we   
  
turned you away."  
  
"Gregory," said a voice from Prues' left.  
  
The two turned to see a man standing in the doorway of what appeared to be   
  
a library. He was much older than Gregory and was dressed in a smoking jacket   
  
and held a lit pipe in one hand. Prue instantly recognized a family resemblance   
  
between Gregory and the man.  
  
"Oh, father," said Gregory, "may I introduce Miss Prue Halliwell? She   
  
seems to have become lost in the storm. I felt it only hospitable that we offer   
  
her shelter until the storm passed."  
  
"I'm afraid that is qvite impossible," said the man, with the same strange   
  
accent as Conway. "Gregory, you know she cannot stay here."  
  
"Father, please," pleaded Gregory. "The weather is unfit for her to   
  
travel in tonight. I know we do not normally entertain guests, but certainly we   
  
can make an exception this one time."  
  
"Mr. Townsend," began Prue.  
  
"I am simply called Father," replied the man curtly. "I am sorry, Miss   
  
Halliwell. But it is simply out of the qvestion. You vould be....safer   
  
traveling back to your home than staying here. I am sorry for the   
  
inconvenience."  
  
"Wait here a moment, please," said Gregory.  
  
Prue watched as Gregory escorted his father into the library. The butler,   
  
or whatever he was, bowed once, and then disappeared through a door behind the   
  
stairs. Prue stood in the entryway to the house alone. She simply waited, not   
  
knowing what else to do. From the library, she could hear the nearly muffled   
  
voiced of Gregory and his father as they talked.  
  
"Father, I know it is a risk," said Gregory, "but we simply cannot turn   
  
her away. Look out the window. We stable the horses at night especially in   
  
weather such as this. Can we do less for another human being?"  
  
"You know vhy she connot stay here," replied father sternly. "You know   
  
vot she vould do if she found out. Ve connot risk it. She vould not   
  
understond. No outsider vould."  
  
"I promise she'll be no trouble, Father," said Gregory. "In the morning   
  
when the weather has broken, she'll be on her way. I'll put her in a room in   
  
the east wing. And I'll make sure she doesn't wander the mansion. Please,   
  
father. It is the least we can do for another human being especially after...."  
  
"Very well," replied Father after a pause. "She is your responsibility.   
  
I expect her gone the moment the weather breaks. I vill not risk discovery."  
  
"Thank you, Father," said Gregory.  
  
A moment later, Gregory came out of the library.  
  
"Well, it seems father has had a change of heart," he said smiling, as if   
  
nothing were wrong. "He's agreed to allow you to stay until the weather clears.   
  
Come, I'll show you to your room."  
  
They were about to ascend the stairs when an old woman came in from the   
  
same door Conway had left through. Although shorter, she reminded Prue a great   
  
deal of grams. The woman was dressed in simple utilitarian clothes. She   
  
carried several towels with her.  
  
"Conway said we had a guest," said the woman handing the towels to Prue.   
  
"You may use these to dry yourself."  
  
"Thank you, Natalie," said Gregory, smiling. "Natalie is our housekeeper.   
  
She's been with us nearly as long as Conway has."  
  
"Thank you," said Prue taking the towels.  
  
The old woman simply stared at Prue. She had a perplexed look on her   
  
face. For a moment Prue thought she was about to speak. Then the old woman   
  
simply turned and left the room.  
  
"Well, now," said Gregory, "let me show you to your room."  
  
Together, Gregory and Prue began to make their way up the stairs.  
  
THREE  
  
"This is a beautiful house," said Prue as they walked the long corridor at   
  
the top of the stairs.  
  
"It's been in my family a very long time," said Gregory. "Many of the   
  
furnishings are original. We often stay here when we travel to this part of the   
  
United States."  
  
"You travel much?" Prue asked.  
  
"Constantly," replied Gregory. "We hold extensive holdings in many   
  
countries. Father likes to keep himself apprised of their progress personally.   
  
At the moment, however, we're on a sort of vacation. Which is why we're here."  
  
"I notice you don't have the same accent as your father," Prue said.  
  
"I was educated at Oxford," said Gregory. "The first in my family to   
  
attend college, actually. It took a great deal of persuading to talk father   
  
into letting me go. He is very distrustful of western ideas."  
  
"I see," said Prue. "You seem to be a very close family. Much like my   
  
sisters and I."  
  
"We are," said Gregory. "We come from a very long line. Our ancestors   
  
were something like gypsies. Mostly vagabonds and transients moving from   
  
country to country. It is one of the reasons father holds to the old traditions   
  
so sternly. But I'm slowly bringing him around."  
  
"I've never known anyone who didn't have even electricity in their house,"   
  
said Prue. "Is the entire house lit with candles?"  
  
"Mostly," said Gregory. "I've recently talked father into letting me   
  
install some gas lamps throughout the mansion. It will make things much easier   
  
on Conway and Natalie. They are as dear to him as any family member. But I'm   
  
afraid he's not quite accepted the idea of modern conveniences, as I said."  
  
"Well, I appreciate your letting me stay here," said Prue. "I don't want   
  
to be any trouble."  
  
"Nonsense," said Gregory, stopping at a door. "It's not bother. Father   
  
is simply distrustful of strangers, that's all. Now I must ask that you not   
  
leave your room for any reason. Parts of the house are not safe. I would hate   
  
for you to injure yourself while you were a guest here. In the morning, I shall   
  
give you directions back to the highway."  
  
"Thank you," Prue said. "I appreciate the hospitality."  
  
"My pleasure," said Gregory. "Sleep well. I shall see you in the   
  
morning."  
  
He lightly kissed Prues' hand then turned and walked down the hallway back   
  
toward the stairs. Prue looked around, and then went into the room and closed   
  
the door behind her. Like the rest of the house, this room was furnished with   
  
exquisite antiques. A candle in a silver candleholder sat next to the bed. She   
  
lit it and looked around.  
  
Women's' clothes lay on the bed alongside a pair of pajamas and a robe.   
  
The clothes were antiquated, like the rest of the clothing in the house, but the   
  
pajamas appeared to be of the modern variety. Prue thought of the contrast   
  
between the two. This was a very odd place. It was as if time had simply   
  
ceased to function with only sporadic exceptions.  
  
She also thought about the conversation between Father and Gregory she had   
  
overheard. There was definitely a secret being kept here. But there was no   
  
indication what that secret was. She contemplated trying to find out what that   
  
secret was, then decided against it. In such a large house it would be easy to   
  
become lost. Especially in the dark. Even though her curiosity was up, she   
  
decided it was best to simply get some sleep, and then get out of the house   
  
first thing in the morning. The secret, whatever it was, would have to keep.  
  
She quickly changed from her wet clothes into the pajamas. They fit   
  
nearly perfectly. Carefully, she hung her clothes over the back of a chair to   
  
let them dry, and moved the antiquated clothes off the bed. Then she climbed in   
  
and settled in for the night. The bed was warm and extremely comfortable. She   
  
blew out the candle and within a few minutes she found herself beginning to   
  
doze.  
  
FOUR  
  
A piercing scream brought Prue upright in the bed. She looked around. It   
  
was still pitch black out and the storm raged as fierce as ever. She listened   
  
for a few moments and had almost decided she must have dreamed hearing the   
  
scream. Suddenly, the scream split the air again.  
  
Quickly, Prue lit the candle and carried to the door. The scream was had   
  
come from somewhere inside the house. It had sounded like a wild animal. It   
  
nearly resembled the howl of a dark but she had seen no sign of a dog since   
  
arriving at the house. Nor any sign of any other animal for that matter.  
  
Cautiously she opened the door to her room and peered outside. Nothing   
  
moved in the hallway beyond. It was nearly as dark in the hallway as it was   
  
outside and the sporadic furniture created strange, misshapen shadows. She   
  
eased out of the door into the hallway and the light from her candle flooded the   
  
corridor.  
  
The hallway was empty. She couldn't be sure, but the scream had appeared   
  
to be close by. The animal, or whatever it was, could be lurking just around   
  
the corner at either end of the hall. She turned and began to move down the   
  
hallway toward the stairs. Something very odd was going on in this house and   
  
she now was determined to find out just what that was.  
  
She hadn't moved more than a few feet when the scream sounded again. But   
  
this time it came from behind her. She spun to face it and stood staring at a   
  
creature that made her blood run cold. It stood at the opposite end of the   
  
hallway facing her, sitting on all four feet like a dog waiting to pounce.  
  
But this was obviously no pet. It vaguely resembled a human but only in   
  
the barest sense. The creature was nearly five feet tall. A light colored fur   
  
covered its' body and its' eyes shined in the darkness of the hallway. Its'   
  
canine snout was short but filled with sharp, jagged teeth. The remnants of   
  
some form of clothing hung on its' body. Remnants that were ripped and torn in   
  
pieces as if the clothing had suddenly been torn away.  
  
The creature began to move down the hallway toward Prue. It snarled as it   
  
moved toward her as a dog would snarl as it approached its' prey. For a moment   
  
Prue simply stood and watched the creature, gauging the situation. Almost as   
  
suddenly, the creature simply stopped in mid stride and sat back looking at   
  
Prue. It snarled at her but didn't make an effort to move any closer.  
  
Two men suddenly appeared on either side of Prue. Before she could react,   
  
they both raised pistols and fired at the creature. But there was no resounding   
  
explosion from the weapons. Instead, two darts struck the creature. Prue   
  
instantly recognized tranquilizer darts sticking out of the creature. It howled   
  
once, and then turned to move away. After only a few steps, it began to   
  
stumble, and then fell to the floor unconscious.  
  
Prue spun to look at the two men. One was white, the other black. They   
  
were dressed in the same old-fashioned suits as Father and Conway. Several feet   
  
behind them stood Gregory and Natalie. Gregory also held a tranquilizer pistol   
  
similar to the ones held by the two men.  
  
"Take her back downstairs," said Gregory to the two men. "See that she's   
  
restrained."  
  
"Yes, sir," replied one of the men.  
  
The two put their pistols away and moved to gather up the creature which   
  
now lay sleeping peacefully on the hallway floor. Gregory and Natalie moved to   
  
Prue.  
  
"I'm sorry about that," said Gregory. "You should have stayed in your   
  
room. You would have been safe in there."  
  
"What is that thing?" asked Prue. "And don't tell me it's the family pet.   
  
That was like no animal I've ever seen before."  
  
"Bring her to the study," said Father suddenly from the head of the   
  
stairs. "Ve must now decide vot ve vill do vith her."  
  
Without another word he turned and descended the stairs.  
  
"I'm sorry, again," said Gregory. "You weren't supposed to see any of   
  
this. Get your robe. I'll intercede for you as best I can."  
  
Still confused, Prue returned to her room and gathered up her robe. When   
  
she exited the room, Gregory and Natalie were waiting in the hallway. Silently,   
  
the three turned and headed downstairs to the study.  
  
"Father," began Gregory as soon as they had entered the study.  
  
"Silence," ordered Father. "Miss Halliwell has placed us in a most   
  
difficult position. You know vot she vill do. She vill tell the authorities.   
  
They vill come to investigate her story, of course. And they vill learn the   
  
secret. Ve cannot allow that."  
  
"Father, she's done nothing wrong," pleaded Gregory. "These are not the   
  
old days. She will be missed. She has family who will look for her."  
  
"They vill find nothing," said Father.  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure," said Prue. "Listen I don't know what's going on   
  
here, but if you're afraid I'll go to the police or something like that, you're   
  
wrong. In fact, I might be able to help you. If I knew what was going on   
  
here."  
  
"You connot help," said Father. "No vun can."  
  
"Perhaps she can, Father," said Natalie.  
  
"Vot do you mean?" asked Father.  
  
Natalie looked at Prue intently for a moment.  
  
"I do not believe she vill tell anyone of vot she has seen here," said   
  
Natalie. "Diana's reaction proves that. And it is possible she may be able to   
  
help. Miss Halliwell is a vitch."  
  
Prue stared at the old woman wondering how she could possibly know that.  
  
FIVE  
  
"That would explain why Diana ceased her attack," interjected Gregory.   
  
"During the transformation the only thing she fears are witches and demons,   
  
Father, you know that. I do not believe she is a demon so she must be a witch."  
  
"What the hell is going on here?" demanded Prue. "Who is Diana and how do   
  
you people know so much about me? We only met a few hours ago."  
  
"Are you a vitch?" asked Father.  
  
"Yes," said Prue after a moment's hesitation. "And as for being safer in   
  
my room, I can assure you I wasn't in any real danger. Whatever that thing was   
  
wouldn't have gotten close enough to me to have hurt me, you can believe that."  
  
"Not what, who," corrected Gregory. "If you are a witch, then you are   
  
aware of things that most outsiders aren't. Father, surely this changes   
  
things."  
  
"How did you know I was a witch?" Prue asked Natalie as Father considered   
  
the situation.  
  
"I sensed your power the first time ve met," said Natalie. "But I vasn't   
  
sure vot kind of power it vos. In the hallvay, Diana stopped her attack. As I   
  
said, she vould only hov done that for von of two reasons. A demon vould simply   
  
hov destroyed her. You hesitated. Vhich means you must be a vitch."  
  
"Diana?" questioned Prue. "You've given that thing a name? What is it   
  
some sort of demented family pet?"  
  
"Father?" questioned Gregory.  
  
"Very vell," said Father.  
  
"Diana is not a pet," explained Gregory. "She's a member of the family.   
  
A very dear member. Diana is my sister."  
  
"You sister?" questioned Prue in surprise. "You're joking, right? That   
  
thing wasn't even human. How could it possibly be your sister?"  
  
"I suppose you're correct," said Gregory. There was a note of sadness in   
  
his voice. "In the strictest sense of the word, Diana is not human. But she is   
  
my sister. As a witch, I'm sure you've come across some very unusual things in   
  
your life."  
  
"Well, I haven't been a witch that long," said Prue, "but I have   
  
encountered some pretty strange things."  
  
"Then perhaps you may appreciate our situation," said Gregory. "Remember   
  
I told you that we move around a great deal? We have to. If we remain in one   
  
place for too long, our secret could be revealed. The outside world would never   
  
accept it. They don't believe in such things. Diana would be taken away from   
  
us and by the time they discovered the truth, it would be too late. A great   
  
many people would be killed. And they would be forced to kill her to protect   
  
themselves."  
  
"They'd probably just keep her locked up in a zoo or something," Prue   
  
said. "They certainly can't let her run around loose. She's obviously   
  
dangerous."  
  
"Only during the transformation," said Gregory. "Most of the time, Diana   
  
is perfectly normal. A very happy, healthy twelve-year-old girl. But when the   
  
transformation overtakes her, she becomes what you saw. A beast bent only on   
  
killing anyone she comes across."  
  
"Wait a minute," said Prue. "Are you telling me that that thing outside   
  
my room is actually a child?"  
  
"Yes," said Gregory. "As I said, she's my sister. She inherited a   
  
genetic trait from our mother. Who, in turn, inherited it from her mother. We   
  
had hoped it might have skipped a generation. It often does. A few months ago   
  
it became quite clear it had not."  
  
"You see, Miss Hallivell," said Father, "my daughter lives vith the same   
  
curse that many of the vomen of our clan live vith. A curse that has been   
  
passed from generation to generation for hundreds of years. I believe the   
  
outsiders have a name for vot she becomes. A name you may find vill explain a   
  
great deal. My daughter is vot you vould call a verevolve."  
  
Prue just stared at Father, Gregory, and Natalie.  
  
SIX  
  
"Thank you, Conway," said Gregory as the servant placed a pot of hot   
  
coffee on the kitchen table.  
  
Conway simply bowed, and then left the room.  
  
"I'm confused," said Prue. "Your father said your sister is a werewolf?"  
  
"That's what you would call it," said Gregory. "But werewolves are not as   
  
they are in the movies. You saw what Diana becomes during the transformation.   
  
You saw the hatred and rage in her. It is the curse she will be forced to live   
  
with the rest of her life. For now the best we can do is keep her restrained   
  
during a transformation so she doesn't hurt anyone."  
  
"How did this happen?" asked Prue. "You and your father mentioned a   
  
curse."  
  
"Well, that's how we refer to it," said Gregory. "It's not a curse in the   
  
traditional sense. No one really knows how it all began. But centuries ago,   
  
the females of our clan began the transformations. Unlike the cinematic   
  
version, the moon has nothing to do with a transformation. In truth, we do not   
  
know what causes it. Only that periodically those afflicted with it will   
  
transform into what Diana transformed into."  
  
"Only the females?" asked Prue.  
  
"Yes," said Gregory. "The males carry the gene but it only manifests   
  
itself in the females. Shortly after they enter puberty, the transformations   
  
begin. It's mild at first. Just some irritability and short temper. But it   
  
quickly progresses to something much worse. Diana seems to have inherited a   
  
very powerful form of it. Much like our mother. She suffered the same   
  
affliction. As I said, we had hoped it might have skipped a generation but it   
  
obviously hasn't."  
  
"No wonder they didn't want me staying here," said Prue.  
  
"Exactly," said Gregory. "Of late, the transformations have been   
  
occurring with increased rapidity. When you arrived, Diana was as normal as you   
  
or I. Some time during the night, she suddenly changed before we could restrain   
  
her. The two men with the tranquilizers are her guards, so to speak. The   
  
tranquilizer they used is extremely powerful. The dosage is more than four   
  
times what would normally kill a full-grown man. And it is becoming less and   
  
less affective. I'm afraid Diana may be forced to be kept permanently   
  
restrained for the rest of her life since we cannot be sure when a   
  
transformation will occur."  
  
"Restrained?" Prue questioned.  
  
"In the cellar," said Gregory, "we've constructed a special cage. It's   
  
strong enough to hold her in her transformed state. When she does transform, we   
  
keep her locked in there. With the two guards standing watch to see that she   
  
doesn't escape. It's also why we live in the country. Less chance of her   
  
encountering some innocent person who wouldn't live long once she came across   
  
them."  
  
"There's no cure for it?" Prue asked. "No way to control these   
  
transformations?"  
  
"We've been trying for generations to find a cure," said Gregory. "It's   
  
why I went to college. I majored in anthropology and chemistry. I've had some   
  
moderate success with some formulas' I've been able to create but she always   
  
builds up a tolerance to them. I have to keep creating new ones and quite   
  
frankly I'm beginning to run out of ideas."  
  
"That's terrible," said Prue. "I can only imagine what your life must be   
  
like having to live with that all the time."  
  
"She may be able to help," said Natalie from the kitchen doorway. "If she   
  
is a vitch, it may be possible for her to create a potion or elixir that could   
  
control the transformations."  
  
"Actually," said Prue, "my sister is the one who does the potions. But I   
  
don't think she's ever done a potion for something like this. I'm not even sure   
  
there is one. Maybe a power-stripping potion? Something that will strip the   
  
werewolf from her without harming her."  
  
"No," said Natalie. "Being a verevolf is part of vot Diana is. Remove   
  
that, and she vould not survive."  
  
"Hmm," said Prue. "I don't know what to say. If I could talk to Piper,   
  
she might have some ideas. Or Phoebe could possibly help. Phoebe is my other   
  
sister. Between the three of us we can usually come up with something. But   
  
we've never encountered a situation like this before. I'm not sure what, if   
  
anything, we can do."  
  
"Are you willing to at least try?" Gregory asked hopefully.  
  
"Well," Prue said, "I'll need to go home and talk with them. And we'll   
  
need to know everything you know about these transformations. And we'll   
  
probably have to do some research to learn everything we can. But we can try.   
  
I can't make any promises other than we'll do whatever we can."  
  
"It would be greatly appreciated," said Gregory. "I know Father has   
  
changed his opinion of you since learning you're a witch. You're not exactly a   
  
member of the family but he doesn't see you as a total outsider any longer.   
  
Witches are viewed something as distant cousins to my clan."  
  
"Okay," Prue said. "Once the weather clears up, I'll return home and tell   
  
Piper and Phoebe what's going on. Piper will get started on a potion right   
  
away. Phoebe might be able to come up with a spell that can help, too. I don't   
  
know how long this will take but if there's anything we can do to help, we'll do   
  
it."  
  
"I'll give you directions to get you back to the city," said Gregory.   
  
"San Francisco is only about twenty five miles from here. I should imagine you   
  
will be home quite soon. And Natalie will see that your clothes are cleaned   
  
before morning."  
  
"Thanks," Prue said. "I appreciate that."  
  
"Well, I suggest you get some rest," Gregory said. "Diana will be safely   
  
secured until the transformation passes so the danger is passed for the moment."  
  
"I think I will," Prue said. "It's been a long night."  
  
Prue returned to her room to get some sleep. It was difficult to fall   
  
asleep as she considered everything she had learned this night.  
  
SEVEN  
  
"A werewolf?" questioned Piper after Prue had told her sisters about her   
  
encounter at the Townsend mansion.  
  
"That's what he said," Prue replied. "At least, that's what 'outsiders'   
  
call them. Gregory gave me everything he knows about them." She handed several   
  
sheets of paper to Piper. "He thought it might be helpful for you to create a   
  
potion or something for it."  
  
"Well," said Piper, looking the papers over, "I guess I can see what I can   
  
come up with. But this is a bit different from the potions I usually do.   
  
Trying to control something instead of vanquishing it. That's going to be a   
  
little tougher."  
  
"The Book of Shadows didn't have much on werewolves," said Phoebe, coming   
  
down the stairs. "Apparently they were created centuries ago when some demon   
  
mated with a human. The werewolf was sort of a side affect from that. Over the   
  
centuries most of the demonic influence disappeared from their descendents but   
  
the werewolf gene seems to have remained dominant in the females."  
  
"That's basically what Gregory said," Prue replied. "They look at it like   
  
a curse, which I can't say I blame them. But it's not a true curse so we won't   
  
be able to break it."  
  
Just then there was a knock at the door. Phoebe turned to answer the   
  
door.  
  
"Well," said Piper, "this will give me a place to start. I might be able   
  
to come up with something but I can't guarantee how long it will take."  
  
"That's what I told Gregory," said Prue. "He said any help would be   
  
appreciated."  
  
"Hey, look who's here," Phoebe said, walking back into the living room.  
  
Leo Wyatt followed her in.  
  
"Hi, Leo," said Piper.  
  
"Hello," said Leo. "I thought I'd come by and make sure the storm didn't   
  
do any serious damage to the roof. It was a pretty bad storm we had last   
  
night."  
  
"Thanks," said Piper. "I'm sure you'll have enough to keep you busy after   
  
a blow like that."  
  
"History of werewolves?" questioned Leo, looking at the papers Piper had   
  
laid on the coffee table.  
  
"Oh, yeah," said Piper, quickly picking the papers up so the handyman   
  
wouldn't be able to read too much of them.  
  
"Oh, those," said Phoebe. "I'm, uh, taking a course at one of the   
  
community colleges. It's for a class assignment. Historical background on   
  
mythological creatures. I picked the werewolf."  
  
"Sounds fascinating," said Leo. "I've always found that particular   
  
mythology intriguing. A tortured soul cursed to become a wolf during the full   
  
moon. I even remember an old legend about them. Something about silver being   
  
used to control them when used in moderate amounts. Of course, it's all just   
  
legend. But it makes fascinating reading. Well, I guess I'd better get to the   
  
roof."  
  
Leo turned and headed for the kitchen.  
  
"Hey, that gives me an idea," said Piper as Leo left the living room. "If   
  
he's right, maybe I could use that in the potion. A silver bullet through the   
  
heart is supposed to kill a werewolf. But if what Leo said is true, maybe a   
  
small amount of silver can be used to retard the transformations."  
  
"It's worth a shot," said Phoebe.  
  
"I'll get started right away," Piper said. "I've already got an idea for   
  
something that just might work."  
  
Leo stood in the kitchen listening to the girls talk. He smiled to   
  
himself, and then headed for the back door.  
  
EIGHT  
  
"Now, I don't know if this is going to do any good," explained Piper. "I   
  
really had no way to test it. But if it works the way I think it will, it might   
  
just help control Diana's transformations. It's not exactly a cure, but it   
  
might suppress it."  
  
"Thank you," said Gregory, taking the vial from Piper. "We shouldn't have   
  
long to wait. I believe Diana may be approaching another transformation. She's   
  
been irritable and short-tempered all day. It's usually the first signs of a   
  
transformation."  
  
"Give it to her now," said Piper. "If it works, you should see a change   
  
in her very soon."  
  
Gregory handed the vial to Natalie. The old woman turned and hurriedly   
  
moved from the study.  
  
"This," said Piper, handing another vial to Gregory, "is a stronger   
  
version of that potion. A much stronger version. Prue told us about how she's   
  
been building up a tolerance to your sedatives. Well, this is another form of   
  
sedative. But it's silver based. I'm willing to bet that it will be a much   
  
more effective tranquilizer than the ones you've been using. And from the   
  
information you gave us, she shouldn't build up a tolerance to it because of the   
  
silver content."  
  
"Again, we are in your debt," said Gregory. "Thank you for everything   
  
you've done."  
  
"We haven't done anything yet," said Prue. "Let's wait to see if this   
  
helps first."  
  
"Still, Gregory is correct," said Father. "Most outsiders vould have   
  
forgotten about us. Or turned us into the authorities. You have attempted to   
  
help. It is more than I had expected."  
  
"It's kind of our job," said Phoebe. "Helping the innocent and all.   
  
Besides, from what you've said, Diana isn't really evil. She kind of has a   
  
disease. And she can't be held responsible for that no matter what happens when   
  
she transforms."  
  
"Do her transformations always come so quickly?" Prue asked. "It's only   
  
been a week since I was here."  
  
"As I said," Gregory replied, "there is no pattern to the transformations.   
  
We still do not know what triggers them. I intend to keep researching it to   
  
discover everything I can about it. Perhaps one day we can find a cure."  
  
"I hope you do," said Prue. "No one should have to go through what she   
  
goes through. Especially not a young girl."  
  
"I do not believe ve vill hov to worry about that again," said Natalie   
  
from the study door.  
  
They all looked over to see Natalie and a young girl standing at the door.   
  
The girl was about twelve years old with long blonde hair. She was smiling at   
  
the group.  
  
"Diana?" questioned Gregory. "How do you feel?"  
  
"I feel fine, Greg," said the girl. "I don't know what I was so angry   
  
about. When Natalie gave me that drink, it went away."  
  
"It affected her almost immediately," said Natalie. "The anger and rage   
  
hov passed. I do not believe she vill suffer the transformation this time."  
  
"That's wonderful," Prue said. "At least this time you won't have to   
  
wonder about the house."  
  
"Greg told me about you," Diana said to Prue. "I hope I didn't hurt you.   
  
I don't remember very much when I have an episode."  
  
"No, you didn't hurt me," Prue said smiling. "And I'm glad to see you're   
  
all better now. These are my sisters, Piper and Phoebe. Piper is the one who   
  
came up with the potion that helped you. She's very good at that."  
  
"And this," Piper said, handing a piece of paper to Natalie, "is the   
  
recipe for the potion. You'll be able to make it whenever you need it. You'll   
  
have as much as you need to help Diana when she has an episode. Now, I suggest   
  
that Diana take some of the potion every day sort of as a preventative measure.   
  
I'm not a doctor so I can't be sure how effective it will be but it should help.   
  
And you have the stronger potion if she should suddenly change. At least it's a   
  
start."  
  
"This is fantastic," said Gregory, looking at the recipe. "It should be   
  
quite simple to convert the potion into pill form. Diana will be able to take   
  
the potion as a simple medication. And I'll make sure that Terrence and   
  
Bartholomew have the tranquilizer prepared immediately. Just as a safety   
  
precaution. We will have to watch Diana closely for a while to make sure the   
  
potion is having the desired affect and she isn't building up a tolerance to it.   
  
But at least this gives us hope."  
  
"Not just you," Prue said.  
  
"Vot do you mean?" Father asked.  
  
"You said that many females of your clan suffered from the same   
  
affliction," Prue replied. "If this works for Diana, it should work for them as   
  
well. While it may not be a cure, at least they can all hope to live more   
  
normal lives."  
  
"I don't see why not," Piper interjected. "For anyone else it probably   
  
won't do much. But to someone who suffers from being a werewolf it should work   
  
just as well as it did for Diana."  
  
"That's wonderful," Gregory said. "Father owns a small pharmaceuticals   
  
company in Europe. It should be a simple matter to mass produce the pills and   
  
distribute to those who are in need of them."  
  
"Just be careful with them," Piper said. "If you're a chemist, you know   
  
that medications can affect people in different ways. Just make sure that   
  
whoever takes them is careful to make sure they're working properly before they   
  
start to rely on them too heavily."  
  
"Of that you can be sure," Gregory said. "I am curious about one thing.   
  
My people have been searching for centuries for even this much of a   
  
breakthrough. How is it that you were able to come up with one so quickly?"  
  
"Actually," Piper said, "it was just a hunch I played. Our handyman   
  
mentioned a legend about silver in small amounts controlling a werewolf. Prue   
  
said that we couldn't strip it from Diana since it's part of who she is. But I   
  
thought, if we can't strip it, maybe we could bind it."  
  
"It's been tried," Gregory replied. "It is only a temporary solution.   
  
The next time the victim has an episode the binding is broken. Almost as if it   
  
were an entirely different affliction."  
  
"I thought of that," Piper said. "But I still thought that a binding   
  
potion was worth a shot. So I just made a silver powder one of the main   
  
ingredients of the potion. That should make it work with each episode. And in   
  
the small quantities that Diana will be taking, it's kind of like a vaccine. It   
  
doesn't cure the affliction but it should prevent reoccurrences of it as long as   
  
she takes the potion."  
  
"Ingenious," Gregory said. "Combining silver with a magical potion. I'm   
  
amazed that no one considered it before."  
  
"Maybe you're just too close to the problem," offered Phoebe. "Kind of   
  
like you couldn't see the forest for the trees, so to speak. Besides, Piper's   
  
very good at coming up with off the wall concoctions."  
  
"Ve are indebted to you," Father said. "You hov done us a great service.   
  
I do not know how to repay you for this great boon."  
  
"Just make sure that Diana gets a regular dose of the potion every day,"   
  
Piper said. "That will be thanks enough."  
  
"I can assure you she will," said Gregory.  
  
"Well, I guess we should be going," Prue said. "I'm sure there's some   
  
demon in San Francisco somewhere having a field day thinking we've left. I'd   
  
kind of like to show up and give them a surprise."  
  
"You are velcome in our home any time," Father said.  
  
"That's a great compliment," Gregory said. "Father has never invited   
  
anyone to our home."  
  
"Just keep in touch," Prue said. "I want to make sure that Diana is doing   
  
okay."  
  
"I promise," Gregory said. "Let me see you to your car."  
  
NINE  
  
"I feel good," Prue said as she drove them back to San Francisco. "We   
  
actually helped them."  
  
"And a great many others, if what Gregory said is true," Piper said.   
  
"With that potion, the 'werewolves' of his clan should never again have to go   
  
through their transformation."  
  
"I'm just wondering if they're the only werewolves there are," Phoebe   
  
said. "It's so different from the legend. I know legends are usually blown all   
  
out of proportion but it just seem so strange that they should be so different   
  
from the aspect of a werewolf."  
  
"Who knows?" Prue asked. "We do know there are different types of   
  
demons."  
  
"And different types of warlocks," said Piper, "not to mention different   
  
witches. I would imagine it's quite possible that there are different types of   
  
werewolves. I'm also willing to bet that the others aren't quite as innocent as   
  
Diana is."  
  
"No argument there," Phoebe said. "I'm just glad it was Diana Prue   
  
encountered and not one of the others. It could have had a much different   
  
ending."  
  
"Speak for yourself, little sister," Prue said. "I do have an active   
  
power, after all. Now if you had encountered a hostile werewolf, that would   
  
have been a different matter."  
  
"I wouldn't have been driving around in the middle of a storm," Phoebe   
  
said. "And gotten lost on some deserted country road."  
  
"Maybe not," Prue said, "but on the other hand...."  
  
"Okay, okay, enough," Piper said. "The storm has passed and we're having   
  
a beautiful ride in the country. Can't we just enjoy the scenery and forget   
  
about the stupid feud for just a couple of hours."  
  
"Well," Phoebe said to Prue, "she did come up with the potion. I guess it   
  
isn't too much to ask that we give her a little peace. Truce?"  
  
"Truce," Prue replied.  
  
Piper just smiled to herself. Prue and Phoebe were actually getting along   
  
for a change. Maybe they were starting to bond as sisters again. As Prue   
  
continued the drive into San Francisco Piper just thought about Leo. Their   
  
handyman was probably scampering around the roof of the manor patching one hole   
  
after another. Maybe she'd just fix him a special lunch when they got back.  
  
The End  
  
If you've enjoyed this story, you can find more "Charmed" stories at my   
  
website, www.geocities.com/killeenmale/ . You can also post your own "Charmed"   
  
stories if you like to write fan fiction. 


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